Cheek to cheek
by NancyMay
Summary: This is my first M fic, and I have read others but still worry I may have crossed the line too far. Please tell my if I have. I had just planned a sweet K or K story, how far away from that have I gone? I'd like to write another chapter but if I do it will be re-worked and rated T.
1. Chapter 1

I have the radio on all day at home. For those in the UK, Radio 2, and on Sundays there is a show tunes programme The inspiration for this story comes from 'Cheek to Cheek' being played, hence the title and, apologies to Seven Dragons for, possibly, pinching something from her latest 'The Last Dance'.

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Jean leant against the door. Thank goodness, at last she had managed to get the doctor out of the house, his suitcase packed with everything he needed for a formal dinner dance.

He had been invited to a journalist's dinner, by, of all people Joy McDonald. Jean knew he didn't want to go, after all, Joy was only after one thing and he, for some strange reason that Jean couldn't fathom out, wasn't prepared to go there.

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Lucien drove more slowly than usual to Melbourne. When Joy had invited him to the dinner he had asked her if he could call her back in case there was something in his diary.

Jean had assured him that there was nothing keeping him from the engagement, even though she didn't want him to go. But why? She had no claim on him, other than the fact that she couldn't stand the woman. So she had had his dinner suit cleaned, his dress shirt was pressed and his shoes polished.

Lucien had no love of formal functions. Too much drink on offer that he was trying to reduce his consumption of, nosy and rather pompous newspaper men, in this case, trying to find the dirt on the participants. Urgh!

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Joy had been delighted to see him and he had to admit she looked rather...nice.

He had eaten a well prepared meal, from the starters of a light French Onion Soup, to the dessert of Raspberry Pavlova via Roast Lamb; nowhere near as good as Jean's he mused, and had drunk less because he was constantly being talked at and had to answer.

He had danced with Joy and some other women he didn't know but somehow the music was bland and his smile forced.

He escorted Joy to her hotel, the same as his and somehow she had engineered her room to be on the same floor as his. As he left her at the door to her room he knew she expected him to kiss her at the very least, and possibly make love to her, but as he looked at her he realised he had no desire for the young woman and made the excuse of tiredness and having to drive in the morning, 'Patients, you know'.

He saw her disappointment but knew she would have been more disappointed if he had taken her to bed. For Lucien without desire there would be no intimacy. He knew he didn't desire Joy, he liked her, as a friend, but no more; there was someone just a little out of reach for him.

He undressed and washed and changed into his pyjamas and got into bed. He lay on his back contemplating the ceiling. There was a flaw in the plaster, like a hair curl, like her hair curl; the side lamp threw a shadow almost like her figure, her form, slight and precise. He turned out the light and closed his eyes and sleep claimed him.

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The music soared, waltzes and slow foxtrots, and in his arms the loveliest of all women. They floated round and above the dance floor, oblivious to those around them. She smiled and laughed, threw her head back in joy and happiness and then kissed him, her naked body against his, soft, warm skin a body he took for his own.

He woke, breathing hard, and alone. A dream, only a dream, but what a dream! He'd give anything for that dream to come true.

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'Enjoy your evening, doctor?' She asked as she took the case from him.

'Pleasant, thank you, Jean.' He answered and went through to the surgery.

Jean unpacked for him and put the laundry in the basket and hung his dinner suit in the wardrobe.

'Oh well, doctor.' She muttered, 'I hope you know what you're doing.'

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The washing on the line, the patients admitted, a day like any other, but both were distracted.

He admonished Agnes for not looking after herself properly, prescribed medication and took blood pressures, but his mind was not on his work.

Jean burnt herself on the iron, daydreaming, she had to fold his pyjamas twice, making a mess of it the first time.

She shook her head, how long had she been standing by an empty board after turning the iron off. Looking at the clock she realised that surgery was over and the doctor would want his tea.

She laid the tray and made the tea, adding some freshly made sponge cake.

Outside the surgery door she took a deep breath and knocked.

'Come.' It was more of an order than an invitation.

He looked up as she entered and tried not to gasp. Even in that bloody awful apron over her blouse and skirt she looked gorgeous.

'Tea, doctor,' She smiled, and what a beautiful smile, it lit up the room, 'sorry it's late, I was distracted.'

'Thank you, Jean.' Courteous but cool. She turned to go.

'Close the door, please.' He told her. She looked at him, did he mean before she left or after. 'I need to speak to you.'

Here it comes, she thought, the dismissal, sack, call it what you will, he was going to tell her to go.

He stood up and went to her. He stood so close there was barely a hair between them. He passed one hand round her waist and the other round her shoulders, spreading his fingers up the back of her head. He pulled her too him and pressed his lips to hers.

She opened her eyes in shock, then gave in, and responded, melting into him, tasting his, by now dry mouth as he tasted hers. He pulled her curls, dislodging the pins that held them in place, and pushed her against the wall. She gasped.

'Oh, er,' He pulled away, ' Jean, I...er...'

'Will that be all, doctor.' She breathed.

'Er...yes.' he coughed, embarrassed, no, mortified, as she left the room. God, what the hell did he think he was doing, he'd practically taken her against the surgery wall, she'd leave, the tales, oh hell!

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Outside the room Jean touched her swollen lips and patted her curls. She hurried to the hall mirror and looked. Her lipstick was smeared her hair was out of place, but her eyes, her eyes shone. She smiled.

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Lucien sat down by his desk. He passed his finger over his lips and looked at the pink residue, her lipstick, he flushed like a girl. How on earth could he apologise for this? But she hadn't pushed him away, had she? He sat staring at the wall where he had pushed her, had he hurt her? He was stronger, heavier than her, he must have.

A knock on the door brought him out of his daydream.

'Yes,' his voice was sharp.

'Can I take your tray, doctor?' Jean, looking as composed as ever, curls back in place and lipstick repaired, entered.

'Thank you, Jean.' He tried to appear as if nothing had happened. She raised an eyebrow as she took the tray, noticing the cake was untouched and the tea cup had not been used.

'Dinner will be at five thirty as usual.' She announced.

'Right, yes, fine.' Why could he not string a sentence together?

She left.

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Dinner was a quiet affair, he pushed his meal around the plate and didn't talk.

She watched him, mildly amused, but how could she tell him she actually liked what he'd done to her that afternoon and if he wanted to repeat the incident she was unlikely to object. But she was his housekeeper.

Jean started to clear the table, no point in dragging it out, he wasn't eating and she had had enough. Lucien looked across at her.

'Jean?' He caught her arm, the doctor in him taking over. 'What have you done?'

'Oh, it's nothing,' she brushed it off, 'I caught myself on the iron, that's all.'

'Let me take a look.' He stood up, 'Did you cool it?'

'Probably, I can't remember.' she tried to pull her arm away, not putting much effort in to it.

He insisted on looking at it and dressing it, taking great care not to hurt her. When he had finished he helped her dry the dishes and then poured her a sherry in the living room.

Sitting across the room from her he swirled his drink. She was knitting, nothing unusual, but he had to speak to her. He tried to concentrate on the paper, but couldn't, he didn't drink his whisky. Occasionally he opened his mouth to say something but couldn't find the words, so closed it again.

Jean put her knitting away, and got up to leave.

'I'm going to bed, doctor,' she said quietly, 'unless you want me for anything else.' Deliberately phrased, wondering if he wanted her, really wanted her.

Lucien stood up and smoothed his hand over his head. Of course he wanted her for something else, he wanted to...

He cleared his throat, 'Good night, Jean.'

'Goodnight,' she said, adding very quietly, 'Lucien.' She took her glass to the kitchen and rinsed it out. He was waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.

'Doctor?' somehow her voice was very low and very, very sexy.

He approached her, slowly enough for her to make good her escape, but she didn't move. He put his hand round her waist, his other hand again round the back of her head, crushing the curls, pushing his lips against hers. Feeling her mouth open he pushed his tongue inside and tasted her, sweet and warm. She wrapped her arms around him, bringing her leg up against his hip feeling his hardness through his trousers. His hands slid down to her bottom and lifted her up and she clung on with both legs. He carried her down the corridor to his room where he lay her down on the bed. She reached up and quickly undid his shirt buttons pushing the garment off his shoulders and pulling his singlet up revealing his chest, strong muscular, a light spattering of blond hairs.

He shrugged the singlet off as she pulled her own blouse off. He undid the zip of her skirt and slid it off as she undid his trousers, deliberately running her hand over his erection, becoming more excited herself. He lifted her slip up high, and she raised her arms so he could take it off her, leaving her in her bra and panties. He could see the moistness of her desire, but he needed her wholly as nature intended, wanted to taste her breasts, suckle at her nipples, it took no time for him to remove the hindrance and he took each neat small breast in turn, licking and sucking as she rose and bucked under him.

She reached down and pulled his undershorts down, wrapping her fingers round his length, hot and hard in her hand she gasped, all that was in the way was her panties and he removed them deftly, then pushing his fingers into her wet warmth. She urged him on and then pulled his hand out of the way as she guided the tip of his erection into her then pulling him down with her heels on his back until she felt him deep inside her.

He thrust, hard and urgent as she cried his name, begging for more, rising and falling as he ground into her. She saw stars as the orgasm overtook her and then felt him try to pull out,

'No!' She screamed, 'no, Lucien, please!'

She gripped him with her thighs, held him down with her heels until she felt his seed flood into her as she came again, and his cry of 'Jean, oh God, Jean!' pounded through her brain.

She held him there, their hearts pounding, gasping for breath until he softened and fell from her.

She rolled onto her side and looked at him. She was not embarrassed at their nakedness, she took her eyes down his form, strong, almost sculptured torso, long muscular thighs and between them much for a woman to want.

He in turn looked at the slight form of the woman who had just confounded all expectations. Neat round breasts, now scarred with the marks of his beard and his suckling, sweet flat stomach, surprisingly unmarked by childbirth, and an almost pretty rose of a belly button. Her slim elegant legs falling from the neat dark triangle between them.

He opened his mouth to speak but she put a finger on his lips,

'Shh.' She whispered, leaning over to kiss him, softly. then snuggling against his chest and closed her eyes, with a sweet but satisfied smile on her face.

He pulled the covers round them, and wrapped his arms over her drifting into deep and dreamless slumber.

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He woke to find he was alone in his bed and wondered if it had all been a wonderful dream. But the bed sheets and the lone strand of dark hair on the pillow told him it had all been very, very real.

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'Good morning, doctor,' she greeted him in the kitchen, 'scrambled eggs and toast for breakfast, is that alright?' She smiled, it seemed to him a wicked, knowing smile.

'Lovely, thank you, Jean.' He smiled back and started to set the table for her.

Maybe things were changing, but the breakfast table was not the place to discuss night-time activities.

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Reviews and comments very welcome, especially as I have never written anything like this before. Have I gone too far? I may do more chapters, what happens next, but if I do I will take out the M element and change it to T rating. It's quite exhausting to write!


	2. Chapter 2

Killing off Joy was a bit of a nuisance, which is why she lived in this fic, and I am ignoring the case that she died in, altogether. She is a total opposite to Jean so, although I didn't state where this story is set in the timeline of DBM, let's go for sometime before Adelaide onwards, but after the Dennison case, and Mei Lin never happened!

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The day passed as any other. Lucien spent the morning finishing the paperwork for an autopsy, ready to be included in the court papers. Three copies of the final report he threw in the bin because he was so distracted with his memory of the previous night he made silly errors. He drove home for lunch and the afternoon surgery. He sat in the car on the drive for several minutes, thinking. She had said nothing that morning above the normal pleasantries and he had left saying he would be back for lunch.

He was roused from his thoughts by a tap on the window. Jean was looking at him with a puzzled expression on her sweet features. He couldn't think of her face without adding in some adjectives to describe it. He wound the window down,

'Yes, Jean?' He asked, almost coldly, it was the only way he could get through any time in her presence.

'Do you want me to bring your lunch out here, doctor?' She asked, politely, 'because if you do I could have given it to you to take to the morgue this morning.' She stood and folded her arms across her, oh so neat, breasts.

'Sorry, Jean.' He wound the window back up and followed her into the house, trying to keep his mind off her swaying hips.

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Lunch, an almost silent meal, over, Jean washed the pots and he dried. She knew he wanted to say something but, as usual, was struggling to find the right words. She couldn't help him, there, because she knew he wanted to apologise. Trouble was, she didn't want an apology.

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 **A few hours previous:**

Jean watched him leave for the station and his paperwork and smiled. When she had risen that morning she had headed straight for the bathroom to look at herself. There were marks over her body she had never had before. She touched the beard rash, circled her reddened nipples with her finger smiling at the memory of his sucking at her. She had love bites on her collarbone that would mean she would have to be careful how she dressed today, perhaps a sweater would do. She had run a bath and slipped into the water briefly realising she was a little sore, but the water was soothing and she knew it would wear off. If it didn't, well maybe she would have to consult a doctor!

She had daydreamed as she went about her chores. Would he want her again, take her like a raging bull? Or would he be embarrassed, apologetic, or, heaven help her, horrified at her willingness to let him have her. The trouble for her was that Christopher had never, ever done anything like that to her, and quite frankly, she wanted more. And she was not going to confess, either.

When she had heard the car pull onto the drive she had waited for him to come into the house. When he didn't she looked out of the door and saw him sit there, obviously deep in thought, and she knew what about.

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Lucien sat in his surgery, still at a loss what to say or do. Jean acted as if were completely normal to be ravished by one's employer. He managed to collect his thoughts enough to deal with his patients and was rather grateful that the perceptive Agnes Clasby did not have an appointment that day.

Jean brought his tea in as normal, as asked if there was anything else he wanted, as usual. Damn the woman, why did she not say something? He looked up, she didn't have that bloody apron on. Every curve showed through the sweater and slim, straight skirt she was wearing. Did she have any idea what she was doing to him? She knew just how to stand to show how beautiful she was.

She turned to go.

'Jean,' he heard his own voice, 'please,' he indicated she sit down opposite him, 'we need to talk.'

She sat and looked innocently at him, she knew she was making him squirm but she knew now she had to stop that and talk, otherwise both of them would go around feeling uncomfortable, possibly avoiding each other. He needed to know she had enjoyed every single moment of what they had done, but she also needed to know how he felt, apart from supremely embarrassed.

'Yes, doctor.' She shifted in her hair, realising she was still a little uncomfortable.

'Are you alright?' He pulled his brows together.

'Perfectly,' she smiled, 'you were saying.'

'Er, yes,' he hesitated, 'about last night...'

'What about last night, doctor?' she asked sweetly.

Lucien Blake went bright red, and Jean had to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing out loud.

'Jean...' he watched her stand up and move round to his side of the desk. He swallowed, hard.

As she stood and looked down at him he could smell her sweet perfume, light and floral.

'Lucien...' she rarely used his first name, 'it's alright.' A whisper.

He stood up, 'Really?' his voice was equally quiet.

'Really.' She kissed his cheek.

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Life went back to normal, they spoke as if nothing had happened but were easier with each other. Having Mattie and Charlie around meant that they couldn't even think about it happening again.

Jean surreptitiously checked the calendar for their lodgers' rosters and saw that Mattie had noted she would be going to Melbourne to see her parents to celebrate their wedding anniversary in a couple of weeks and Charlie had agreed to escort her to the evening dinner. He booked a week's leave so he could see some old friends and his mother at the same time. Jean checked her diary, that worked out nicely for her too! Well, probably, her cycle had never been regular. Just her and the doctor in the house.

Lucien was also wondering if they would ever have any time to themselves. Much as he enjoyed the young couple's company, he'd quite like to spend some time with his housekeeper alone. Even their evenings were chaperoned.

They didn't even get the chance to kiss in passing.

Mattie had gone to bed early one night, with a headache and Charlie was on a night shift. Jean had put her knitting away and Lucien offered her a second sherry as he poured himself another whisky.

'Lovely, thank you.' She smiled up at him and invited him to sit with her. He sat not too close. They drank in silence, then the doctor took her glass off her and moved a little closer, hoping he'd got this right. She smiled at him and he leant in to kiss her noting she parted her lips as he did so. His lips had barely touched hers when they heard footsteps on the stairs and he pulled away and shifted up the couch, picking up a book on the end table.

'Just wanted a drink.' Mattie said, not even looking their way.

'Right,' 'Ok'.

'Night,' Mattie called.

'Goodnight, Mattie,' they said, almost together.

'Damn!' Lucien said.

'There's always the studio,' she suggested, quietly, looking at him from under her lashes.

'True.' He admitted, moving back to the spot he had so hurriedly left.

'Perhaps next time. I'll light the fire.' She whispered as he moved to finish the aborted kiss.

'Mm, you do that.' But she did not reply because his mouth was covering hers, his tongue silencing any words she might have.

She put her hands round the back of his neck, running her fingers through his hair, disrupting the neat, professional styling, then, as they broke the kiss and he put his forehead against hers she slipped the fingers of one hand between his buttons and deftly undid enough to slide her hand inside his shirt and draw little circles with her finger just below his collarbone.

His hand did similar to her, slipping his hand up and inside her sweater round her back to unfasten her bra, giving him access to cup and caress her breast. They both knew that to go much further would be dangerous but a little further he hoped. Her raised nipple excited him, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He drew his hand out and slipped it under her skirt finding her panties, and slipped a finger inside them.

'Lucien,' she gasped as he moved that finger then another against her, finding the most sensitive part, she was ready, moist heat against the rhythmic movement of his fingers. She put her hand down, god, he was hard! She unzipped his trousers and pulled him free of his shorts. It was no good they couldn't stop. He took his fingers away and reached up to pull her panties off and out from under her skirt that she hitched up so she could straddle him. As she guided him in their was the brief thought that Mattie may come down again but it was too late for that. He pushed up and into her and she slid down him and rode him until neither could hold off any longer and they came together. He grabbed her waist to stop her falling as she arched her back and bit her lip to prevent the cry of ecstasy that threatened to fill her throat.

'Bloody hell, Jean.' He gasped, where was the prim woman who had railed against him when he made the colossal mistakes in the early days? He preferred this one, and oddly found it was more than lust, he was in love with her, deeply, madly in love with her. She satisfied a need in him he had long since felt would never be appeased again.

'Shh.' She leant against his chest, breathing hard. Then she giggled, softly.

'What's so funny?' He asked.

'Us.' Jean sat back up and slid off him. 'Acting like randy teenagers when the parents are out.'

He pulled his shorts back over his manhood, and zipped his trousers up.

'I'd better go to bed,' she murmured, almost sadly, 'my bed.' She clarified when she saw the brief look of hope in his eyes.

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She lay in her bed thinking about him. What had started out as pure unadulterated lust, a desperate need to be with a man after so long, had changed for her. She was surprised that she knew what she was doing given that Christopher was a less than adventurous lover. She decided that she actually rather liked the doctor, well more than liked, she loved, yes, she loved him, and probably had done for a long time. But up until the other night and tonight he had been out of reach for a humble farmer's widow and the prim, almost cold show she had put on for him had been her way of not getting hurt.

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He lay looking up at the ceiling. Up until the other night she had been so out of reach, so prim, officious, and so darned sexy. Randy teenagers, she'd said, and she was right. But he hadn't had anyone since he lost Mei Lin, no one had enticed him the way she had, from the very moment he had set eyes on her. Women he had wined and dined had not excited him enough that he couldn't control himself and behave like the perfect gentleman. He left some disappointed women behind, including Joy, but she would just have taken what she wanted and given him nothing. Jean gave him everything. When he was inside her he felt complete, he could feel her need was more than wantonness, it was a total act of giving as much as she received.

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No opportunities presented themselves so they had to do with a furtive kiss in the surgery when she took him his tea. Both waiting until Mattie and Charlie were out of the way. She had determined that during that week she would see if she could share his bed, he'd kept suggesting it but she said that was impossible, they took enough risks with their reputations as it was.

One evening when he thought they could get away with a bit of heavy petting she pushed his hand away. It surprised him, and it showed.

'Sorry, darling, not tonight,' She blushed, it was not for her employer to know certain things about his female employees.

'Right, er, sorry.' He reddened a little too, so she patted his cheek,

'You can still kiss me, though, if you'd like to.' She smiled.

'I'd like that very much, Jean.' almost old fashioned acceptance of her permission.

She was a little earlier than expected, but better than being late, she thought, not that that would happen, not at her age! She and Christopher had tried for more, but it never happened. So she contented herself with loving her two boys.

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She drove Mattie and Charlie to the station to catch their train, then went into Ballarat to do some shopping. How she managed to keep the skip out of her step and the smile off her face these days she didn't know. She'd tried one day slipping a tiny piece of grit into her shoe, but all that did was make her foot sore. She knew what people said about her and the doctor and even though it was now true she wasn't going to let that show. Anyway, she knew she wasn't the only single woman in Ballarat that got up to what was referred to as 'hanky-panky'. She did her best to keep a bland expression on her face as she went about her business, and it seemed to work.

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They ate dinner as if nothing had changed, he helped her wash up and then went to pour their evening drinks. She took out her knitting, sipped her sherry, he read the paper and tried to do the crossword, ignoring his whisky.

'Jean?' he spoke across the room, 'what's another word for 'pepper, red, green and yellow?' clue in the crossword. I should know, shouldn't I?'

'Let me see, have you got any letters in it?' She looked up and put her knitting down.

'Third letter's 'p',' he sauntered across the room and sat next to her.

'Capsicum', she supplied. 'Honestly, I thought you'd have known that.'

'I was distracted.' He smiled.

'Really.' She looked at him with mock seriousness.

'Mm, your knitting needles.' he was closer now, about to nibble her earlobe.

'Well, what else would you like me to do with my hands?' She asked a decidedly cheeky look on her face.

He took them in his, 'They're cold.' He rubbed them with his.

'Perhaps I'd better warm them by the fire,' she murmured, '...in the studio.' She stood up and stood in front of him, 'Why don't you lock up and join me?' She whispered, sexily.

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She was sitting in a chair next to the fire, her sherry glass refilled and dangling idly from her fingers. His whisky was by the other chair, the firelight dancing through the amber liquid. He sat opposite her and watched her, and sipped his whisky. She was perfectly composed, relaxed, gazing into the firelight a slight smile on her perfect mouth, the mouth he wanted to cover with his. She had taken her shoes off and he noticed for the first time what small feet she had, each toe nail neatly shaped and shining with, what he supposed was some clear polish. She wore no stockings strangely; the weather was not that warm.

'Shall I put on some music?' He asked, casually.

'That would be lovely,' she agreed, smiling slightly at him.

He selected a record and put it on, turning the volume low. It wasn't something she knew, a soft piano piece. He came and stood by her chair and extended his hand,

'Dance with me, Jean.'

She took the offered hand and allowed him to take her in his arms and they swayed to the music. He pulled her close but she felt no sign of his arousal, his breathing was steady, rhythmic as if he was keeping control. She liked that, they were alone, no frantic coupling tonight, they could take their time. He bent down and kissed her softly, as he did she parted her lips letting him lick at them and nip her lower lip, telling her he wanted more. She let his tongue in and he tasted the sweetness of the sherry she had drunk, explored her perfect teeth with it. She could taste the sharpness of his drink and it almost made her drunk with desire for him.

His hands strayed down to her bottom and he pushed his fingers against the fabric of her skirt and felt her move her legs slightly apart. She felt the stirring of his desire against her belly and sighed, moving her hands to undo the buttons of his shirt slipping it over his shoulders and letting in fall to the floor.

'Your turn,' she whispered, and he moved his hands back to undo the few buttons on her white blouse, so crisp and almost pure. Lifting the garment off her he too let that fall to the floor and then he moved to slide the zip of her skirt down letting it fall in folds on the floor round her pretty ankles. She moved to the zip of his trouser and pushed them down, they were even now, both in their underwear, still swaying to the music. She lifted his singlet off him and let it drip from her hand onto the floor to join his shirt and trousers. He did the same with her slip and while she leant against him, planting little kisses on his chest he unclipped her bra and it too fell to the floor. He lifted her out of the ring of her skirt and neatly stepped out of his trousers, using his toes to free his feet of his socks. He carried her to the rug in front of the fire and placed her gently on her feet. They kissed, a long deep passionate kiss and ran their hands up and down each other's bodies, he pushing her panties down and she slipping her hands inside his shorts and freeing his erection. He put his hand between her legs, feeling her to be luscious and warm, he slipped fingers inside her, making her gasp with pleasure, but he wouldn't let her come just yet.

She traced her finger up his erection feeling his moist tip, he bit his lip to keep control, he was so hard in her hands. They went down slowly onto their knees and Lucien lowered her onto her back, supporting her head with his hand. She raised her knees either side of him and guided him in again, not that he needed a guide, but she liked to keep control just that little longer. He entered her, putting his full length inside her, then moving slowly, balanced on his hands looking into her eyes. She began to move with him arching up to him then putting her heels on his back and pulling him down to her, pushing herself against him. Faster and harder he thrust into her until she screamed his name as she climaxed and she felt his release inside her, he thrust again and again, she couldn't believe her could keep going, and she came again, gripping handfuls of his buttocks in pure pleasure. He rested on his elbows, still inside her and leant to kiss her, she moved her hands up his back and held his head as they kissed and skilfully moved her leg to unbalance him and roll him onto his back, keeping him inside her.

He looked at her and smiled and she did a little hip movement that made him harden again, seventeen years of abstinence had given him reserves of lovemaking even he didn't think possible. She did the movement again, and he knew he was ready for her to take her turn.

She started to slide up and down his measure, a little at first, enticing, then more , all the while looking down on him, a wicked glint in her now vivid blue eyes. He pushed up into her, his hands on her tiny waist pulling her down letting her grind into him to find that spot. He felt her tighten around him as she came, throwing her head back and groaning in sheer ecstasy. He let go, grunting as he did so, now spent. She lay down on his chest, breathing hard, exhausted, years of wondering what it would be like, to be properly made love to, realised with this bear of a man.

He traced his finger down her spine. Definitely worth the wait, and as he thought about what could be between them he also knew that of all the ways he could take her, they would always make love this way, because he had to look upon her beautiful face as they took each other through the universe.

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She woke curled up next to something warm and smiled. However, comfortable as she was she had to get up, the days wouldn't change, surgery, autopsies, cleaning, cooking but the nights, the nights for this week were theirs. She stretched, feeling stiff. A warm bath would sort that out she thought and, trying her best not to wake her lover, she slipped out of the bed and headed to the bathroom, without bothering with a robe.

As she waited for the bath to fill she cleaned her teeth and looked for marks she would have to cover. This time he had been careful where he marked her and she would be able to wear a blouse instead of a sweater. She noticed bruises between her legs and smiled to herself as she thought of him thrusting so hard into her he would bruise her.

She lay in the bath, a luxury she could not afford when everyone was home, but now she indulged herself. Feeling her muscles relax she mentally went through what she had to do that day. The studio would need tidying, some laundry and a quick flick round with a duster. She had done a thorough clean before Mattie and Charlie went away and could get away with a light clean for a couple of days. Surgery was scheduled for the afternoon and he would likely be down at the station for the morning, or not, but she could always find him something to do around the house or garden.

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Lucien lay in the bed still able to smell her on the pillow, her scent filled him with delight. He wondered what the week had in store. Hopefully not much in the way of police surgeon duties, with any luck, but surgery as usual and just being around her without having to guard against being caught touching or kissing. He guessed she wouldn't allow fooling around during the day.

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So what will Jean allow during the days while they have the house to herself? And will Mattie or Charlie notice any difference when they return.


	3. Chapter 3

The week seemed to fly by. Lucien was still required down at the station, there was, most inconveniently, a body turn up in Lake Wendouree. He and Alice Harvey did an autopsy and found that the man had drowned, but he had a bruise to the back of his head, so it was a suspicious death. He had to postpone surgery one afternoon and asked Jean to reschedule the appointments as she would usually do. This meant no time for much more than a kiss during the day, and even a night or two wasted as he and Matthew perused the evidence, while Alice picked away at the samples of hair and water and splinters.

Jean watched him leave the house in the morning almost sadly. She kissed him properly before he opened the door, wiping the trace of lipstick off him before he left, with a little smile on his handsome features.

He came home late on two occasions, finding her asleep in his bed. He couldn't disturb her so contented himself with pulling her close to him and sleeping more deeply than usual, no nightmares creeping through his subconscious.

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A long surgery at the end of the case left him relieved. Maybe he could grab some time with Jean later. He went to light the fire in the studio and then wandered through into the kitchen. She was bending over, taking something out of the oven and he immediately thought something very, well, frankly rather rude! She stood up and put the dish on the stove top while she closed the oven door. He coughed to alert her to his presence and she turned, smiling.

'Finished?' She asked, turning with the dish back in her hands, and moving over to the table.

'All done.' He sighed, and went round to her. He took her in his arms and bent to kiss her. She smiled and ran her tongue seductively across her teeth, he accepted the invitation and kissed her passionately.

They pulled apart, 'Really, doctor.' She patted her curls and looked at him from under her lashes.

He groaned, 'Jean...' barely under control.

'Dinner?' She was teasing him, she knew fine well what he wanted and it wasn't lamb with apricots, potatoes and vegetables. 'You need to keep your strength up.' She grinned wickedly.

'Perhaps you're right,' he agreed, 'it's been a trying week.'

She didn't say what she was thinking, which was 'yes, us trying to have 'fun' in the studio.'

It would be the last time they could have dinner together, just the two of them, for a while. Mattie and Charlie were due back the following day and chances for intimacy would be severely curtailed.

They washed the dishes and Lucien went to pour her a sherry and his whisky.

'I'm going to have a bath, Lucien.' She said, conversationally, 'I'll have my drink afterwards.'

'Oh, right.' He looked surprised, but if that was what she wanted...

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He sat in his chair studying his whisky. He couldn't keep his mind off her in the bath, naked, splashing water over her soft skin, her sweet, slender body shiny with droplets of water and soap, and that tantalising little triangle leading to, for him, paradise. Perhaps, he thought, perhaps she'd like her back washing.

He stood up and straightened his waistcoat and went into the bedroom. He took off his tie, loosened his shirt collar. Then thought, to hell with it, and stripped naked and put his robe on.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the bathroom door.

'Lucien?' She called, had she been too long?

'Jean, forgive me,' he spoke just loud enough for her to hear him through the door, 'I wondered, perhaps you'd like me to wash your back.'

'Oh, yes,' she was grinning, he was slow to catch on tonight, 'that would be nice, do come in.'

She looked him up and down, 'You'll get that robe wet,' she murmured, cheekily.

'Er, yes,' he stuttered, she looked so...'yes that's true, I better take it off.'

He slowly massaged her back with the sponge, admiring her neck and the way the line of her spine fell down below the waterline. He was struggling to keep under control and felt himself become aroused. The bath was a normal sized bath, not really built for two, but if they were organised...

He watched her draw her knees up leaving just enough room for him to join her. He got in, facing her, his knees drawn up hiding his manhood. She raised herself on her knees and leaned over his, parting her legs and pushing his knees down so she was astride him. She raised an eyebrow at the sight before her and took one of his hands and pulled it between her legs, letting him feel first the wet curls, wet from the warm water then he started to move fingers against her, feeling her moist and warm. As he brought her almost to the brink then stopped her she slid her fingers round and down his hot, hard member and then moved over him and took him inside her, slowly rhythmically moving, the water waving round them, her hands now gripping his shoulders as he pushed up and the orgasm shuddered through them both and she arched, tightening round him, refusing to let him go, until she could hold him no longer and she sank onto his now wet chest, gasping out his name.

'Jean, my Jean,' He sighed, stroking her back, down to the very bottom of her spine and back up again making her shiver.

'Oh Lucien, my darling boy.' Everything she said to him came straight from her heart, 'I didn't know...'

'Didn't know what, my love?'

'That it could be like this, that I could be loved and love like this.' She was frightened it would all end, he just wanted a distraction and he would cast her off and she needed to him to know how much she loved him.

He smiled over her head, knowing for once she was struggling to say what she wanted to say, but he understood.

'Shall we go into the studio,' he decided to be practical for once. 'the water's getting cold and the fire down there will be nice and warm. We can canoodle on the rug, if you'd like to?'

'I'd like that very much,' she whispered.

She pushed herself off him and let him get out of the bath first so she could have a quick wash before elegantly stepping out of the bath to be enveloped in the towel he was holding. He kept hold of her and leant down to kiss her, first on her forehead then her lips. She stood there gazing into his eyes; there was something there, something almost wistful she thought, with a tinge of hope behind it.

He turned and took her robe off the back of the door and helped her into it. It was a different one to the one she usually wore, one he'd never seen before, what could be described more as a bathrobe, being of a warmer fluffy material, rather than the satin-like one he was used to seeing her in. She pulled it round her and wriggled so the towel dropped from underneath it and fell to the floor. She kicked it to the bath, to mop up the spills from the bath-time activity, she would deal with that in the morning when she cleaned the bathroom.

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Both wrapped in robes and pink from the bath they sat on the rug in front of the fire. Lucien leant against his chair and she lay against him, between his legs. His arms wrapped round her, hands inside her robe, lazily caressing her breasts. She raised her head and watched the gold flakes flicker in the firelight and moaned as he circled her nipple and it raised, a little firm knot against his hand. She felt him become aroused even through the thickness of her bathrobe. In her mind's eye she could see what was pressing up against her and wondered what he was planning from that angle. One of his hands moved outside her robe and lifted it up so he had her bare bottom against his erection which was now much as she expected, free from his robe.

He put his hand under her and slowly moved his fingers against her now moist folds, he had certainly got the knack of bringing her almost to a climax then slowing down. He lifted her so he could position himself and slowly lowered her onto him hearing her gasp at this, she never knew, Christopher..., oh, god! his hands were still there and as he moved his fingers just over that certain place, and they moved in rhythm until she squealed as she came then she felt him come milliseconds after. His hands were inside her robe holding her, now as one last thrust saw her groan and another orgasm shook her body. She could barely breathe and he held her there until he softened and slid from her.

He lowered her back between his legs and she turned and lay her head on his chest, still gasping for breath.

'Lucien, what..?' Was there no limit to his techniques for loving her.

'Oh, I'm sorry Jean,' it had never really occurred to him that Jean was not as well versed in the different ways of... she seemed to know exactly what she was doing.

'No, it's alright, in fact it was just that Christopher...' now she was worried, firstly mentioning her first and only other lover's name when they had just...and revealing her limited experience.

'More fool him,' Lucien commented, kissing the top of her head, 'well if we are going to confess, Mei Lin was a little, er, reticent.'

Jean giggled, 'more fool her, then.'

'So,' he was curious, 'if Christopher was er...'

'Less than adventurous?' she offered,

'...yes that, then how..?' how did she know what to do?

'I just followed your lead.' after all that was what she had done with Christopher, as an innocent seventeen year old.

'Oh, right.'

Jean looked at him, confusion all over his face. The first time he had taken her, that night in his bedroom was the way that Christopher had done, but with a few more touches, even allowing her to touch him, which Christopher wouldn't let her do, for some strange reason, and the way Lucien had touched her, waiting until she was ready, and longer and with her husband she had rarely, if at all, achieved an orgasm.

'But that second time, on the couch...' he wondered, 'when we nearly got caught by Mattie.' He had been surprised when she had straddled him and rode him the way she did.

'Mm..' she tipped her head to one side, 'I surprised myself.' Then she thought, 'you didn't seem to mind.'

'Mind! Bloody hell, woman, you were amazing.' He widened his eyes, 'in fact you never seemed to amaze me.'

'Or you, me.' She reached up and kissed him, then snuggled down against his chest, listening to his, now, steady heartbeat.

They lay there for some time, the fire now a pile of glowing embers.

'What are we going to do when the others are back?' She asked.

'Be creative, lock the studio door.' He suggested.

'That's only going to make them suspicious, and what if the phone goes.' She noted.

'Mm... we could always tell them the truth.' He winked.

'Lucien, for heavens' sake!' Jean was shocked at the suggestion.

'Well, although it's putting the cart before the horse, how about tell them we're courting, at least if you'll let me court you?' He wondered, it was a bit late.

'Then at least if they catch us kissing it won't matter.' She liked the idea of being courted by him.

Actually, Lucien wanted to propose, but didn't quite know if he should; then they could have this when they wanted, no guilt.

'But it still doesn't mean we can risk this, the way we have done this week, cases notwithstanding.' He admitted, courting would be a bit limiting and tame after the way they had been carrying on.

'True,' she mused, go on, Lucien, she willed, ask me to marry you, please.

'Jean,'

'Hm?'

Deep breath, 'marry me.' The silence was deafening, she feigned thought, pursed her lips, tipped her head as if considering it.

'Yes,' a barely audible whisper.

'Oh Jean,' he breathed out, relief flooded his brain, and he kissed her. first her forehead, then each eye, then her nose, then her lips and as her lips parted he kissed her passionately. he rolled so she was under him and moved down to kiss and mark her collarbones, suck at her breasts, down her body, licking her belly button then further as he felt her buck against him and he went to flick his tongue over her, again bringing her to the brink then moving his mouth up her body repeating the licking, kissing and sucking until he was back at her mouth, and she felt the tip of yet another erection start to enter her, then almost out, then a little further, each time moving a little further in until he thrust and flooded her with his seed and she came, gasping his name over and over again, slamming her hands on the floor, thinking her heart would stop, and wondering how he could do this to her so many times in one night. Marriage was going to be exhausting, fun, but exhausting.

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She stripped and remade his bed, thinking that last night would be the last time she could sleep there, unless Charlie and Mattie were away, which happened so rarely she had resigned herself to returning to celibacy.

They told Charlie and Mattie they were courting and that they would marry soon. Charlie congratulated them so did Mattie, but she was the one who asked why 'soon.'

'Why not?' Jean said, innocently, 'there's nothing to stop us.'

'Of course, it's just that it's so sudden,' but she was happy for them.

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Time was rarely on Jean and Lucien's side and finding time to set a date for the wedding was becoming difficult. Jean suggested he book some time off, officially from his police surgeon duties and they could go away for a short honeymoon as well. He agreed it was the only way they could arrange it.

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She continued to act as his housekeeper and receptionist and they would use the after surgery tea-time as the time for a kiss and a cuddle, where she would sit on his lap and nestle into him. But that was all, they both found it difficult to leave it at a kiss and a cuddle.

He was out at the station, she had decided to so some gardening, and had pruned, and weeded, cut the grass, planted some cuttings and was thinking of going back inside to clean up and put the dinner that she had prepared earlier, in the oven. She looked at her hands, covered in dirt, she felt hot and sticky and less than desirable. Looking at the time she saw she had time for a bath, a long one, before dinner. She washed her hands and put the dish into the oven and went up to bathe.

She was relaxed, lying with her eyes closed, thinking of the time he'd joined her, but, no, stop it Jean! She told herself, it doesn't help. She thought she heard the door go and then,

'Jean!' Lucien was back, her heart did a little back flip.

'Be right there.' She sighed and got out of the bath and dried herself enough to put her bathrobe over her still damp body. She appeared on the stairs, and he smiled, her hair lay in damp curls round her face and he was fairly sure she was naked under her robe. It had been weeks since he'd done more than slip his hand inside her blouse in the study, both knowing if they went any further they wouldn't stop and they would get caught. He went slowly up the stairs removing his jacket, waistcoat and tie and undoing the top two buttons of his shirt, and stopped when his face was in line with her knees, then one more step and the top of her legs was in his eye line, hidden behind her robe was paradise. He pulled aside the robe and kissed the triangle of curls. He felt her shiver and she shifted so her legs were apart, just enough for him to flick his tongue over her special spot.

'Ah,' she sighed, and stroked his head. He moved slowly up each step kissing and licking the damp skin until he came to her breasts and he flicked his tongue round her nipples, feeling them rise and stiffen. He took the next two steps to be with her and opened her robe fully, pushing against her and kissing her passionately.

'Lucien,' she felt him hard already, 'my room,' she whispered.

He carried her into the only room he never entered and stood her in front of him. She looked him up and down with a wicked grin on her face. The unmistakable bulge in his trousers threatened the integrity of the zip. She went right up to him and finished undoing his shirt, lifting it off his shoulders, swiftly followed by his singlet, and he complained about her layers! She held his gaze as she slowly undid the zip and freed his manhood from the restriction of his shorts. His hand were between her legs, his fingers dipping in and out of her warm wetness. She lifted a leg around his hips and he lifted her up, his tip just at the point of entry and managed, somehow, even he didn't quite know how, to get her onto the bed where he thrust inside her in desperate need to feel her tighten around him and they began to move frantically against each other and the weeks of pent up desire flooded them both and they came together, she groaned, not daring to cry out in case somebody heard, and held him inside her with her heels on his back. He started again to move inside her, still hard still able to flood her and she felt another orgasm surge through her until she could hold him no longer and they moved to lie together, satisfied.

'Oh, Jean,' he gasped, 'I've missed you.'

'Silly boy,' she playfully slapped his arm, 'I'm always here for you.'

'Jean! Lucien!' Mattie's voice floated up and the front door clicked shut.

'Bloody hell!' Lucien looked at Jean her eyes wide with horror.

'Bathroom, you, now.' She pushed him out of her room and across the landing. For him to be caught in her bedroom was unthinkable, so bathroom for him, she hadn't emptied the bath and he could use that as an excuse. She could feign the remains of a headache and ask to be left alone for a little while.

The ploy worked, even if Mattie wondered why the doctor had left his jacket, tie and waistcoat on the stairs.

There had definitely been some changes in their relationship, courting or not, they were much closer, like two teenagers sometimes, and she was sure she had seen Jean frantically fasten the buttons on her blouse on more than one occasion!

Charlie, being a man, just said she was imagining it, Jean was too proper to indulge in anything other than a genteel kiss.

Mattie made some tea and went to sit in the living room to read and eventually Lucien came down in his robe, having made use of the still warm bath. Jean followed some time later having decided that she had better take her time, given the excuse, then go and wash the evidence away before being seen.

'Are you alright, Jean?' Mattie asked, 'you look a little pale.'

'Yes, just a headache, the sun outside, my fault I should have worn a hat.' She smiled and looked at Lucien. She had her hand in her apron pocket and looked troubled.

'Jean,' Lucien looked concerned, 'sit down and have some tea. I'll get you some aspirin.'

'No thank you Lucien,' She said, 'I'll be fine, honestly.'

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She had sat on her bed while Lucien was in the bath, looking at the diary. She always noted her time, since she had married Christopher, and although her cycle was irregular it was never that bad. She couldn't be, could she? How could she be certain? Her breasts weren't painful, but Lucien had barely touched her there lately because of the others in the house and she hadn't noticed anything untoward. She hadn't been sick. She needed a blood test, but she couldn't go to Dr King, he knew her marital state, hell, who didn't? She didn't want to ask Lucien so who?

Alice, she could ask Alice. Alice was the only person she confided in, apart from Lucien, but even Alice didn't know she and Lucien...

But Alice wouldn't judge her and she was sure her and Matthew...

Bugger!

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Jean waited until the following morning when Lucien was out and she knew Alice would be at home on a rest day.

'Alice, hello,' Jean sounded perky and bright, in fact she had put her worry out of her mind, for now, it was probably just the time of life change.

'I just wondered if you fancied popping round for a cuppa. I hardly see you these days and I'm on my own so we could have a good old natter.'

It was rare for them to get together, that much was true, and they did like a good chat, at least Alice didn't make snide comments about her sharing the house with Lucien.

Alice said that would be lovely and she would be over in half an hour.

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Jean laid a tray and went through in her mind how she was going to ask Alice to do the blood test. She would have to tell her why, of course, and also impress upon her that it was not to be made known to anyone. She was nervous when Alice arrived, noticeably so.

'Hello, Jean,' she paused, 'are you alright?'

'Yes, perfectly fine,' which she was, just pregnant, possibly. 'Come into the sitting room, we'll have tea there.'

They started the small talk, Alice congratulated her on her impending marriage to Lucien and asked if they had set a date yet?

'No, not yet, ' Jean smiled, 'Lucien is going to book a week off police duties so we can have a short honeymoon at the same time.'

'That sounds like a good idea.' Alice agreed, it was probably the only way to pin Lucien down. 'Where would you go?'

'Probably Melbourne or Adelaide to see the family.' That was as far as they had got.

'Jean, what's the matter?' Alice noticed Jean had barely sipped her tea and was folding and unfolding her hands. 'You're as nervous as a virgin bride.'

'Actually Alice,' Jean sighed, 'I need your help. I need you to do a blood test for me.'

'A blood test, are you ill?' Alice asked, immediately concerned. 'If she hadn't asked her GP or Lucien she must be really worried.

'No, I...I think I might be pregnant.' She blushed and cast her eyes down, so embarrassed. 'Of course I could just be going through the change.'

'Oh I see,' Alice smiled, 'been up to no good, eh?'

'Alice,' Jean looked around as if the wall could hear her.

'Actually, oh hell, yes.' Jean tried not to smile at the thought.

'Who am I to judge?' Alice smiled, 'anyway, I need a syringe, needle and blood bottle.'

'Come through to the surgery, I know where he keeps everything.' Jean heaved a sigh of relief.

Alice took the sample and dropped the vial into her handbag, saying she would have to go and do the test almost immediately and it would be two days before she could give her the result.

'When did you last menstruate?' Alice asked, and Jean showed her her diary, explaining why she kept in and that she had never had a regular cycle.

'So the week before Mattie and Charlie went away and, sorry Jean, I take it you and Lucien...'

'Mm hm.' Jean nodded. 'A lot.' She went bright red, and Alice smiled.

'I see,' Alice tried to sound like a disapproving parent, 'oh, well, when the cat's away...'

'Well, if you are then you would be about six weeks gone.' Alice stood up and looked at her friend. Jean stood up and smoothed down her skirt,

'Thank you Alice, I didn't know who else to turn to.' Jean said softly.

Alice touched her shoulder and smiled.

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Jean waved her friend off and smiled. Yes, she was worried, for the ensuing gossip, if they couldn't organise a wedding fast enough, and of course Lucien's reaction, would he be angry? Neither had even considered being parents again.

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Lucien was concerned, she seemed rather quiet, almost subdued.

Jean nestled into his shoulder on the couch that evening, she knew he was worried, he kept asking her if she was alright.

'I'm fine, Lucien.' She assured him, 'I'd just like to get the wedding sorted and start to live without hiding how we feel about each other.'

'Me too,' he agreed, 'then we can...'

That made her giggle, in spite of everything. 'Naughty boy.' She murmured.

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Alice phoned a couple of days later and asked if she could come over. There was no hint in her voice as to whether the tests were positive or not.

'Lucien's just finishing surgery,' Jean said.

'Good, I'll pop over, then.' Alice answered cheerfully.

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Alice smiled as she put the receiver down. She had Jean's results and due to a conversation she had had with Lucien over a corpse the other day she knew that there would be no problem with the result. However, she knew Jean would find it difficult to deal with.

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Jean made tea, now extremely nervous. She would have preferred Lucien to be out when Alice came round, but Alice seemed to want him to be around. Oh dear!

She let Alice in, trying to appear calm and relaxed, but even Alice could see it was an act. Alice suggested the study, more private than the living room, and she knew, next to the surgery. She wanted Lucien close by.

They sat opposite each other and Jean poured tea, trying to stop her hands shaking. Alice decided to put her out of her misery.

'Well, Jean.' She leant forward and took the cold, slightly clammy hands, 'the results...'

'I'm pregnant, aren't I?' She blurted out.

'Yes, you are.' Even Alice could see congratulations would not be acceptable in this case, yet.

'Oh god!' Jean burst into tears, 'what am I going to do?' Gulping sobs racked her slight frame.

Alice put her arms round her, 'It'll be fine,' she said, soothingly.

'He's going to be so angry,' Jean sobbed.

'No he won't.' Even Lucien couldn't ignore the sound, he must be able to hear it through the wall, Alice thought.

'How am I going to tell him?'

'Tell me what?' Lucien had indeed heard her and the sound broke his heart, what could have upset her so? His voice was soft in its enquiry.

Jean looked up, tears streaming down her face, 'Oh, Lucien.' She hiccupped, 'I'm sorry, it's all my fault.'

Lucien held his arms out to her and wrapped her in them, kissing the top of her head,

'Jean, please tell me,' he whispered, urgently, 'what's wrong?'

'I...I...I'm going to have a baby,' she stuttered, and buried her head in his chest.

'Really?' He tried not to smile, 'well, in that case it's not **all** your fault then, is it?'

She looked up at him, 'You're not angry?' She whispered.

'No, why? Should I be?' He looked at her, red nosed and puffy eyed and utterly gorgeous.

'But...' She studied his face, finding only love in his eyes.

'Perhaps we'd better organise that wedding, eh?' He said softly, and smiled.

'Well, I'll offer my congratulations, to you both, then.' Alice smiled, 'I'll be off, and leave you to it.'

'Alice,' Jean called after her, 'thank you, and I'm sorry about this...'

Alice just smiled and left, thinking how lucky Jean was.

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Lucien booked a week off as soon as they managed to get a date at the City Hall for a civil service. Two weeks away, nobody would know about Jean's pregnancy and she could say it was a wedding night baby, born early.

Mattie and Charlie were surprised at the sudden flurry to organise the wedding. Mattie thought about asking Jean if she was pregnant, but then thought better of it. Firstly she didn't think Jean would have sex outside of marriage and secondly she didn't want to offend her. She discussed it with Charlie, of all people, but Charlie said they were probably just sick of waiting. Jean insisted that the witnesses would be Alice and Mattie and Charlie would support Lucien.

Jean had wondered about splashing out on a new dress but tried one out of her wardrobe on. It was one Lucien hadn't seen her in, pale blue with little printed lily of the valley type flowers all over it. Fitted and straight, if she could get into it she would like to wear it, it would ensure that nobody would even consider she was in the family way.

Mattie caught her trying it on. She hadn't closed the bedroom door fully and Mattie noticed as she passed to go to have a bath, one evening.

'Jean?' She pushed the door open a little more.

'Mattie,' Jean turned round, her eyes shining, 'I was wondering about wearing this for the wedding.' She held her arms out and turned round. 'I've never worn it, it was bought for a theatre trip that never happened.'

'Jean it looks lovely,' Mattie agreed with the choice, 'and it's a beautiful fit.'

'Mm...'tis, isn't it?' Jean was rather pleased, there was no hint of baby Blake growing there.

'Why didn't the trip happen?' Mattie was curious, it was unlike Jean to buy something and never wear it, it would be a waste of money.

'Oh, the trip did,' Jean told her, 'I went down with flu and couldn't go.'

'You're never ill!' Mattie scoffed.

'I was then, very.' Jean conceded, 'Dr Blake, Thomas that is, was worried it would turn into pneumonia.' She remembered just how awful she felt, feverish, breathless, sick, urgh! She shook the memory away. 'So, back to the dress, what do you think?'

'I think it's ideal, Lucien will love it.' Mattie hugged her and headed off for her bath.

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Lucien gasped as he saw his bride enter the small registry office, as Mattie had rightly declared, he loved the dress, but more he loved the woman wearing it.

The ceremony was short and sweet, Jean was so glad to be Mrs Blake and Lucien just grinned from ear to ear all through the dinner they shared with just their closest friends, before they headed off to Melbourne, where Lucien had booked them into a hotel Jean would never have dared go into as Mrs Beazley, farm widow, but Lucien's love had given her more confidence. They would go to the theatre, a special treat for Jean, and he determined to spoil her, because he could.

Their nights were filled with loving, just the way they liked it. He teased and touched her, kissed and sucked and marking her where ever he wanted to. He never rushed her, they would slowly undress each other, run their hands over each other's bodies. He would start by kissing her mouth then move down taking his time to excite her, always tasting her, licking her nipples so they rose and became the little buds he delighted in, kissing down the middle of her stomach, kissing the rose of her belly button, stopping to greet his unborn child as he kissed that dark triangle that led to ecstasy. She would gasp as each touch, each pass brought her so much pleasure, as he licked her there then lay her down and slipped his fingers into her, as he did so she would start to run her finger up and down his manhood, hard, hot and the tip moist until she was ready to receive him. He was adept at entering her slowly, a little at a time, then further and further into her as she arched up to him, and he would thrust deep until she climaxed and he came into her, never just the once, he could stay hard for as long as she held him and bucked under him, or flicked him expertly over and rode him like a stallion, until, sated they lay spooned and slept, limbs tangled in the sheets, wanton and reckless.

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The taxi pulled up on the drive and she sighed. Back to normal. Back to surgeries and autopsies, cleaning and laundry, but the nights, well those would have to change, and they could lock the studio without suspicion!

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The end of my first M fiction. Thank you for the lovely reviews, comments and PMs.

I will now go and lie down in a darkened room!

By the way, sorry it's such a long chapter.


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